Baby Changes - Nonbinary Month
by friendlyneighborhoodfairy
Summary: {Nonbinary Month #10} The test in Sting's hand can't be real. He can't be pregnant: he's not supposed to be able to anymore. Lucy isn't supposed to be fertile either. If he goes through with it, his body is going to remind everyone Sabertooth's guildmaster is trans. As numb panic sets in, Lucy calls up Rogue and the three convene together over tea and trans issues.


**Trigger Warning:** for unplanned pregnancy and brief discussion of abortion.

 **A/N:** FT + transman + transwoman.

An anon requested StingLu on my Fairy Tail Drabbles, but I suck at writing M/F prompts cuz it just doesn't inspire me. But trans M/F I can TOTALLY do.

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 **Baby Changes**

Sting was utterly and completely freaked.

The pregnancy test in his hand was unreal. How it had happened…he had no idea. It should be medically impossible for them to— But it had. And now he faced a body that was going to change in the worst of ways. Announce the ways his body was different to the whole fucking world in a way that he, as a very public guildmaster, would not be able to hide from anyone, no matter how good he was at dressing for his body.

The sound of the front door made him jerk.

"I'm home," Lucy's voice rang out, singsong.

He didn't say anything—couldn't say anything—just got up and padded quietly down the hall.

"Yo," Lucy said, noting his movement but not glancing up as she pulled off her boots. "Everything went well. I had—"

Her eyes met his and she fell silent, mouth falling open.

"It's impossible," he said blankly.

"Sting?" Her voice trembled. "What's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant."

The words made him fold in on himself, covering his face as emotion forced its way up his throat. It was really real. He was pregnant.

"Wow."

Lucy's hand on his shoulder was warm, and he wrapped his arms around her, Lucy squeezing him extra tight.

"I don't know what to say," she murmured.

 _Me neither._ He couldn't say it aloud. His voice wasn't working.

"I have so many thoughts in my head," she said. "Like how I think you'd make a great father, and I can picture you with children—you're so good with the young kids at the guild. Like how many emotions you're probably feeling right now. Like how I'm a tiny bit jealous, which is so unfair, because you don't want your body and I do, and there's nothing either of us can do about it. I think I just want to cry, but I'm not really sure why."

"I want to cry too," Sting said.

His shoulders heaved, Lucy sniffed, and they held on in their embrace as the emotions hit them together.

It was impossible. Unreal. Real.

"I know this is stupid to say, but I'm in shock, so… This isn't supposed to happen," Sting said. "My body should not be able to—and your body shouldn't produce viable sperm. It's been years. We've never used protection. It's supposed to be impossible. I just can't—I don't understand. I'm not denying it, I just…can't adjust."

Lucy nodded, numb, quiet. Adjusting too. He needed her to catch up so she could help him make sense of it. What came next for them?

"Are you going to go through with it?" Lucy asked.

Sting staggered to the side, caught so off-guard the world swirled around him.

"Shit," Lucy gasped, grabbing him. "Let's sit down."

"I don't think I will," he said as they walked to the sofa. "I don't _want_ to go through with it. Except…"

"Except?"

"I want children."

"You don't have to have them this way."

"But I kind of want one with you."

Lucy pressed a hand to her chest, blinking rapidly.

"You don't have to want one," he said quickly. "Or any. Any children. You don't have to want children. This isn't something I'm set on."

He was babbling; he knew he was. Too many thoughts. Couldn't make sense. He was being thrown back into the body and the mindset that were not his, and it did not make sense to him, did not make sense to Sting Eucliffe, a man who'd been married for nearly a decade now and was so used to the world knowing him as 'he' that he sometimes forgot to expect anything else.

Lucy's hands on his face brought him back to the present.

"I want children, love. Of course I do. But not at your expense. Alright?"

Sting nodded, numb.

"You don't have to make a decision today," she added. "We can weigh options. You can wait a month and see if the changes are just too unbearable."

"Yeah," he said, "yeah. That's a very good point. I can wait a few weeks and see."

"Baby steps." She smiled at him, completely missing the irony of her words.

"Yeah."

"Can I call Rogue?" Lucy bit her lip. "We don't have to tell anyone, obviously, but he'll understand, and he's good at keeping secrets."

"Yes, good. I want to tell him."

Nodding and smiling, Lucy went in search of the compact communication lacrima, which Sting had a tendency of losing in the piles of mess he created about the house. He heard her shuffling around, knowing the busyness helped her stay calm, kept her focused and not freaking out.

And having her not freaking out helped him not freak out.

Rogue knocked on their door less than ten minutes later, slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong?" he gasped, barely tripping out of his shoes before hurrying over.

"I'm pregnant," Sting said.

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah."

They looked at each other. They both knew what this meant. Intimately. They'd come out together, transitioned together, stuck up for each other, demanded proper pronouns for each other. Rogue understood everything Sting found uncomfortable about his body.

Lucy came in with tea and the three sat in a silent circle, as they'd done many times over the years. It gave Sting comfort knowing they'd weathered trouble before and would weather it again, the three of them standing against the world. And Yukino, too, when she was back from her three-year mission. Out of all of them, she was the most outspoken activist for trans issues. He missed her loud voice on these matters sometimes.

But right now, it was the quiet he needed. This was a small matter, something inside him, between him and the baby that might or might not grow there. Could he handle being a pregnant man swaggering around as head of a prominent guild? Could he handle being a father who breast-fed? Could he handle the child having to learn that their parents weren't like everyone else's?

He shut that thought down immediately: they weren't weird or abnormal. When a two people created biological children together, there was always one who carried, one who bore, one who fed with their own body. The gender didn't matter. He knew that.

There were still questions though. Ones to which he didn't have answers, and didn't have to right now. Lucy was right: there was time yet to terminate things. He didn't need to—and shouldn't—make this decision today.

He'd only noticed a few days ago something was different, and only today dared to take the test. He'd known for mere hours.

Rogue asked a few questions, then sat in solidarity, and when they'd gone through three pots of tea, Lucy suggested bringing out the lacrima-tron and watching Sting's favorite movie. She and Rogue made dinner while he watched (banned from helping because he inevitably messed things up with food) and smiled at their silly antics—the two had always gotten along.

Whatever happened, it didn't matter whether or not he could handle it. He could handle it _today._ Tomorrow could wait until tomorrow. The next day until the next day. And if there was ever something he could _not_ handle, his beloved and friends would be there, just like they always had.

Disasters never lasted when you had people you loved and people who understood.

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 **A/N:** Trans folks gotta stick together.

Thoughts? Comments?


End file.
